just a quick trip

Last night I was chatting with My Beloved about air travel.

The conversation went a little like this:

Me: “Argh. Stress.”

Boy: “Aren’t you a little excited to fly?”

Me: “Argh.”

(… like so many of our conversations)

I used to like to fly. I really did! Back when all I had to do was hold my Dad’s hand in the terminal and try not to imagine anyone having to use one of the complimentary barf bags? Yeah, flying was fun. And I’m a little sad that my poor deprived boyfriend never had the luxury of being a piece of carry-on luggage rather than an active, adult flyer.

I think I’m developing adult-onset plane-phobia. I’ve never been a nervous flyer, but now the whole process of flying seems to put me in the state where take-offs and landings have me squeezing my eyes shut like I need a Xanax or twelve. Flying has become two days of straight nerves – of packing, making last minute decisions, arrangements, and waiting for it to all fall apart.

My plane leaves for Michigan in an hour. Just a quick week at home. Little sister Caroline is graduating high school. Two of my friends had babies earlier this year that I have yet to squeeze. I am charging a cut and color to my credit card.

Low stress… but last night I couldn’t sleep because there was a last minute confusion about how I was getting to the airport. The problem: I had TOO many rides. This had my heart racing at midnight, laying in bed, staring at the ceiling.

All I can hope for is that today goes a little smoother than my last flight.

So far, so good. Alarm clocks went off properly. Arrived at the airport a grand three hours early. Checked bag wasn’t too heavy. Didn’t get a pat down OR a naked body scan at security. Found the Starbucks. I have a little Sarah Dessen and a little Tina Fey for airplane pleasure reading and a few episodes of Community to block out the turbulence anxiety.

Yes, I wrote my flight in on the wrong day of my planner (again),

and left my boarding pass at the Starbucks (on the complete opposite side of the terminal),

but let’s just cross our fingers and hope that I make it to Michigan in a single piece, eh?

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